


everspring

by TI_82



Series: Terato, Terahto: a Monsterfucker Collection [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, Fantasy, Humor, Humour, Impregnation, Magic, Romance, a blunt witch with no boundaries, a familiar who would probably prefer some advance notice, fertility rite, may I offer a loving and bickering lesbian couple in this trying time, the last tagged so the Americans can find it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:34:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23781691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TI_82/pseuds/TI_82
Summary: Mathilda's witch was brilliant, one of the great witches of the age - and as a general ruleterriblyabsent-minded. She's lucky that's one of her endearing traits.Not that Mathilda will ever tell her that.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Female Character
Series: Terato, Terahto: a Monsterfucker Collection [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1713247
Comments: 2
Kudos: 41





	everspring

'Mathilda? Mathilda!'

Mathilda rolled her eyes, twitching one long ear, and as she scratched under her chin with her own hind paw, she called back, 'The garden, my lady. As you asked.'

'Ah.'

Mathilda diplomatically didn't laugh, waiting patiently as her witch left her cottage and approached the dais on which Mathilda rested. Really, Mathilda had known this day would come - known since the day she'd been summoned - and it was often the only possible fate for any given familiar. Witchcraft was a dark and brutal business at times, and Mathilda had spent far longer in her witch's company than most familiars. She was prepared, and besides, a morbid curiosity had always been something of a selling point in her favour. She'd long wondered when her witch would sacrifice her, and how.

Her witch pulled up to a stop, staring at her - and even in the years Mathilda had kept her company, she'd never ferreted out her witch's name. Smart, of course; a demon should never be given their master's name. It _was_ impressive to have kept it up for the last fifteen years, though.

'Why on earth do you look like _that?'_ her witch asked, nose wrinkled.

Mathilda raised an ear, flicking it in confusion. 'A hare is most useful in this ritual, my lady,' Mathilda replied. 'I thought it would be preferable to my normal form.' Mortals _did_ tend towards an unfortunate squeamishness when it came to stabbing someone else, at least if the someone else resembled the first.

'Well, I could hardly use you when you're a hare,' her witch said, sounding exasperated. 'Honestly, Mathilda, I know you think little of me at times, but you could at least do me the favour of not assuming I was so perverse.'

Mathilda thought more highly of her witch than she'd ever thought of anyone, but she could hardly _say_ so (who would believe the affection of a demon, regardless?) 'It was also in respect to your sensibilities, my lady.'

Her witch squawked, very clearly offended. _'Sensibilities?!'_

'As I said.' Mathilda pointedly began to scratch at her ear. 'Your kind find this sort of thing distasteful if you must do it to someone who looks like you. A hare is small, symbolically significant, and easy to handle.' She loafed down, making herself comfortable. 'Though I suppose it changes, depending on how you intend to do this. A chicken might be easier, if you prefer to use your hands.'

 **'Excuse me?'** her witch said, affronted.

'Ah, a blade, then,' Mathilda said approvingly; good, that was much more dramatic. 'I would request you use the good sacrificial knife, my lady - the silver isn't quite best, but at least it would be prettier than the bone.'

'Sacrificial?' her witch sputtered. 'Knife - Mathilda, what are you talking about?'

Mathilda was beginning to suspect she and her witch were talking at _distinct_ cross purposes.

'Well, this is a fertility rite, isn't it?' Mathilda said sensibly. 'Ergo, a sacrifice. What did you intend when you asked me to prepare the dais for a new moon ceremony, if not this?'

She was a little disappointed, honestly.

'I have no intention of _sacrificing_ you,' her witch said, aghast. 'Mathilda, you've been with me for how long now?'

'Fourteen years, eleven months, thirty days, twenty three hours, and fourteen minutes,' Mathilda recited.

'...my God, and you've put up with me this long?'

Mathilda, once again, diplomatically refrained from snorting.

'The point is, I'm not sacrificing you,' her witch said firmly. 'Never. I intend to keep you beside me for the foreseeable future - you're by far the best familiar I've ever encountered.'

Mathilda preened a little at that; she'd never say, but that compliment would leave her glowing for days. Her witch was a prodigy, after all - a brilliant human alchemist who'd simply decided one day, well into her twenties, that she wanted to be a witch. Such a thing took time, blood, sacrifice - and certainly, her witch had done those things. But witches were usually trained by other witches since their youth. _Mathilda's_ witch taught herself, and had quickly established herself as one of the most talented witches of the age.

Sure, she was just as equally clumsy and absent-minded, but that was what she'd summoned Mathilda for, after all.

'And familiar aside, I happen to like you,' her witch continued dryly, which surprised Mathilda.

'Excuse me?'

'I like you. You're likable. You're better company than most anyone else, you're competent, you're intelligent, and despite all of your demon pride, you still let on that you care for my well-being, from time to time.'

All of the time. But again - simply one more thing Mathilda would never say.

'You truly thought I would _sacrifice_ you?' her witch finished up, sounding boggled by the concept. 'Give me some credit, Mathilda - I would at least tell you plainly ahead of time.'

Well. Now Mathilda just felt silly. She disliked that, but her witch had been teaching her all sorts of uncomfortable things that a demon shouldn't know from the beginning, so she supposed she would have to put up with it.

She sat up, ears twitching again. 'Then what form would you have me take, my lady?'

'Your own. That's quite necessary for this.'

'I see. And who are we cursing, if I may ask?'

'We're not cursing anyone,' her witch said, and Mathilda blinked. 'Well, we are, but it's for a net gain.'

Ah. The less interesting half of witchcraft, in Mathilda's opinion. Which made some of her witch's questions make more sense.

'I see. So who will be taking part?' Mathilda asked, concealing how little she liked the idea. Of the two, being ceremoniously fucked to make someone else fertile sounded much more boring than being ritually slaughtered and sent down to say hello to her maker once more.

'Us?' her witch said, now sounding confused, and finally, _finally,_ it clicked for Mathilda.

'Wait, my lady. This rite is for you?'

'Of course it is,' her witch scoffed. 'As if I would ever allow another person to touch you that way. Well. Make you accept it. You're free to allow what you like.'

Mathilda was still trying to process this. 'So you and I will be performing this rite.'

'Yes.'

'This fertility rite.'

'Yes, yes, as we've said, get to your point.'

'My lady, _we_ will be performing this rite?' Mathilda stressed.

'Yes, which is why I need you to look like yourself, as I have no intention of having intercourse with a _rabbit.'_

Oh.

Mathilda shifted back to the form she'd worn for a decade and a half, now. Her witch sighed in satisfaction at that.

'Now, with that dealt with, is the ritual space at least set up?'

'Not for a rite like this,' Mathilda replied, deciding to simply go with it; a familiar's life was strange, and no one could prove that Mathilda was affected more by the idea than any demon should be. 'Else I might have laid a bed out.'

'I see. I should have been more clear. Well, it's not ideal, but -'

With a flick of her fingers, Mathilda's witch let loose a brief spark of her power, and the space was rearranged into something more fitting for such a ritual. The magic wasn't advisable, but it was better than trying to do this in a sacrificial space.

'There. On the bed, if you please,' Mathilda's witch said, satisfied.

'May I ask why the fertility ritual in particular?' Mathilda asked as she did as she was bid. 'You've never shown interest in such a thing before. And I am having trouble picturing the man who might father your child.'

Her witch rolled her eyes. _'You_ will, you numpty,' she said, and that froze Mathilda still at last. 'Honestly, as if I'd settle for anything less.'

'My lady, I am a demon.'

'And? You'd hardly be the first demon to impregnate a human woman.'

'Is that truly a child you'd be willing to bear?'

'It's your child, so of course,' her witch said, throwing her for a loop. 'Don't worry about trying to shape a cock for this, it's unnecessary given the ritual -'

'You want _my_ child?' Mathilda interrupted, completely taken aback by the concept.

'Well, of course,' her witch said, giving her an exasperated look. 'I've been in love with you for years, Mathilda, _do_ keep up.'

**_'Love?!'_ **

'Love, yes, love,' her witch said, huffing. 'And don't give me any 'demons can't love' nonsense, you are absolutely hopeless at hiding it and I've known since that time we ran across that hag who tried to throw us to the bottom of the sea and you nearly killed yourself to save me.'

'Fuck,' Mathilda said, quite without meaning to, then hid her face in her hands. She was the _worst_ demon - bad enough to have feelings, but to fall in _love_ was the depth of hubris, to want something so - so - _good._ Demons weren't made for that. Mathilda wasn't made for that.

'No, knock that off,' her witch scolded, startling her. 'Absolutely not. Yes, you love me, congrats, I'm sure no demon in the history of the world has ever done it before, you're very special. Use the common sense you claim I lack every other day - I just _told_ you I love you, too. And for fuck's sake, we're a witch and a pacted familiar, we're already about as corrupted as we could get. What's the point of caring?'

'I am trying to have a _moment,_ my lady,' Mathilda protested.

'It's a stupid moment. No offence.'

'How is that not offensive?!'

'Because it's true.'

Mathilda lifted her head and glared at her witch. 'This isn't so easy as you're making it sound -'

'Mathilda. I love you. You love me. Nothing is changing at this exact moment except the fact that it's in the open. In a few minutes, it will change again, because you'll be getting me pregnant, but that's then.'

'You haven't even asked!'

At that, Mathilda's witch paused. 'No, I'm quite certain I did that. Didn't I?'

'You most certainly have not.'

'...my God,' Mathilda's witch said, stunned. 'I forgot to ask you.'

Mathilda couldn't help it; she began to laugh against her will, unable to stifle it no matter how she tried.

'Oh, hush,' her witch said irritably. 'We'll discuss this another time, but at the moment I would like to be just about anywhere else -'

Mathilda scrambled up and grabbed her witch by the shirt, dragging her down. 'Ask me.'

'What?'

'Ask me if I want to have a child with you.'

'Well, do you?'

'Now that you bring it up as an option, yes,' Mathilda replied.

'Then what on earth has all this fuss been about?'

'You never asked, my lady.'

'Carol.'

'What?'

'My name,' Mathilda's witch said. 'My name is Carol. Is that enough to tell you that I mean it? Because as I recall you can technically drag me down to hell now. Don't do that, by the way, I bought bacon for breakfast tomorrow and I'll be quite annoyed if it spoils before I make it home.'

Mathilda was silent. 'My lady...'

'What? Was I supposed to say it in a different way?'

'No, you weren't supposed to say it at all,' Mathilda said, dazed. 'But you did.'

'Yes, I know, I was there.'

'Shut up, Carol,' Mathilda replied, simply to see if she could. Her witch opened and closed her mouth in surprise at that.

'Say it again.'

'Shut up.'

'Not that one, you numpty, the other one. My name.'

'I know.' Mathilda found herself smiling, to her surprise. 'I know, Carol.'

Carol sighed softly. 'So that's what it sounds like in your voice. I always wanted to know.'

Mathilda flushed. Her witch - Carol - was blunt to a fault, but clearly to a virtue, too. Demons weren't made for lovely, soft things like love, but Mathilda was still certain that she'd never heard something quite so romantic as _'I've always wanted to know how my name sounds in your voice.'_

'So there. You love me. I love you. And you want to give me your child, and I'd like to have yours. Can we get on with that, then, because I've been waiting very patiently to get you in my bed and I'm quite sick of waiting.'

Mathilda nodded slowly. 'Then yes, Carol,' she said. 'Let's... let's have a child. You've never done something slow, have you?'

'Absolutely not,' Carol said, nodding. 'Now, lay back, spread eagle. And undressed, of course.'

Mathilda raised an eyebrow, even as she did what she was bid. 'Is there a reason I'll be in the offering position?'

'Of course. I'll be acting on you, after all. I can't do blessings to save my life, but I _am_ a witch. So I'll just do it in reverse.'

'I don't understand, my lady.'

'I'll not be offering anything,' Carol explained, carelessly pulling off her own clothing. Her body was thin not from vanity but forgetfulness, and Mathilda supposed that at least if Carol was with child she'd be easier to keep fed. 'I'll be taking what _you_ offer. Something of an exclusive pact - I'll bear children, _your_ children, but only ever yours. No one else could ever impregnate me for the rest of my days. Personally, it's not a huge trade off, but magic will do as magic does. I'll lose fertility except in one specific instance, and in return _you'll_ gain the ability to impregnate me at the moment of your climax, so long as I wish it.'

It was a clever workaround, Mathilda had to admit, even if it was an obtuse one.

'You said I wouldn't have to change anything to do this?'

'You're fine, yes. It still requires genital to genital contact, but the magic takes care of the rest. Excellent, very good,' she said approvingly, walking around the bed and examining Mathilda thoughtfully. 'May I touch?'

'I thought that was the point.'

'I would still like to ask.'

'My lady,' Mathilda said. 'Carol.'

Carol looked her in the eye, clearly curious.

'My lady, whatever we become, I am your familiar,' Mathilda said firmly. 'We made our pact. I know my nature. I know yours. And I know the nature of our union - the first and truest. Familiar and witch. So - and do not interrupt -'

Carol closed her mouth, looking a bit put out.

'- so let me be clear: in some things, it will always be an honour to be asked. But at its core, I am bound to do your bidding. All of it.'

She looked over Carol's body in the most blatant way she knew how. 'In this, most particularly. Familiars are but a tool in a witch's hands. So make use of me.'

'Ah,' Carol said, nodding wisely. 'You're a kinky one. I should have known.'

Mathilda snorted. 'If you say so, my lady.'

Carol considered her carefully, then nodded. 'Very well. As you ask, Mathilda. Return to the offering position as I light the fires.'

Mathilda did so, watching from the corner of her eye as the green lights flickered to life in a circle around her. When Carol finished, there was an unearthly, vibrant glow over the whole scene.

Carol then returned to the bed, and snapped her fingers after squinting for a moment. Mathilda jerked in surprise as cloth unwound from nowhere and tightened around her wrists and ankles. 'There,' Carol said in satisfaction. 'More traditional.'

She climbed onto the bed and straddled Mathilda as casually as she might a broom. 'Very nice,' she commented, running her hands over Mathilda's body: her stomach, her hips, her throat, and her breasts. Carol seemed quite pleased with the last, and Mathilda wouldn't complain about the lovely feeling of Carol's hands squeezing her breasts and teasing her nipples. 'You really have impeccable taste in the human body, my dear.'

'All the better to please you with, my lady,' Mathilda replied, lifting herself a little, pressing her breasts more firmly into Carol's palms.

'Yes, I suppose it is,' Carol said thoughtfully, squeezing once more. 'To please me. For my favour. For my pleasure. Shaped for me. Belonging to me.'

She smiled down at Mathilda, who was staring up at her, entranced. 'You like that. Belonging to me. Me owning you.'

'It is but reality, my lady,' Mathilda pointed out. 'I am yours to do with as you please. Work. Keep. Sacrifice. Anything for which you might find me useful.'

'And this is something that you enjoy?'

'We are not the same kind,' Mathilda replied. 'Familiar spirits are made to serve. To be owned. Some familiars are different, and like other things. I do not.'

'To keep. To provide assistance. To love. To shower with affection when I remember to look up from my books. You are made for these, because you were made to serve, and that's what I desire of you. Is that it?'

Mathilda nodded.

'I see. So if I was to say I wished to keep you for pleasure. My own, not yours. That would be acceptable to your kind?'

'I don't follow, my lady.'

'If I was to say that your only purpose, from now on, was to fuck me whenever I demand it, and to lay back and let me fuck you however I like, that would be within the realms of acceptable conduct.'

...Mathilda hadn't known how quickly she could go from _'vaguely aroused_ ' to _'fuck me mindless',_ but apparently that time was precisely zero seconds. 'Is that what you desire?'

'Of course not,' Carol scoffed, and Mathilda almost had time to be disappointed before Carol continued, 'That would be a waste of your talents. You'll be continuing in your normal capacity, of course. But if what you are saying is something you find no problem with, then I see no reason why I can't add 'sex on demand' to our normal interactions.'

'I see,' Mathilda said, a little hoarse and a lot turned on.

'Good. With that dealt with, let's begin.'

Mathilda expected Carol to begin the normal sort of ritual opening, but instead, Carol just dropped her head and kissed Mathilda's throat without warning. **'Familiar, bound to me, today I take from thee an offering thou hast not given.'**

Magic spilled out from Carol's lips, pouring over Mathilda's skin, and Mathilda moaned shakily.

 **'** **I take from thee that which is sacred,'** Carol continued, hand skimming down Mathilda's stomach, **'which thou hast no right to bear. Within thee, divine life is corrupted, twisted from the path of virtue; I take this from thee, and draw it into my womb, where it might be cleansed.'**

Her fingers slid into the slick heat of Mathilda's cunt with no warning, and Mathilda moaned again. **'But so too is my witchcraft wicked, and twisted, and defiling,'** Carol murmured. **'And that which fled the demonic finds only corruption in the womb to which it fled. So trapped, it must grow.'**

She withdrew, changing how she was straddling Mathilda; now one of Mathilda's thighs was between her own, with no contact made but clearly imminent.

 **'Corrupted it may be, but so too will it corrupt,'** Carol intoned, drawing a quick, invisible sigil on her stomach, over her womb. Mathilda realised Carol had used the wetness of Mathilda's arousal to do so. **'Only its brethren can ever again take root in its wicked mother. Only its dread father may plant seed within the womb from whence it came. And this, familiar, bound to me, is what I take from thee.**

**'Thou shalt plant within me the seeds of our union, which I shall take as I desire. Thou shalt lay beneath me and give unto me thy seed at my command. And never shall this theft be righted, pacted as we be, until death takes us or oblivion consumes us.'**

**'Witch to whom I am bound,'** Mathilda recited breathlessly, **'I heed thy command. Within thee I plant the seeds of our child, as thou wishes and wonts, without care or consideration of what I wish to give. This theft is thy right, and so to thee I surrender, and give over to thy whims, and shall never waver, until death takes us or oblivion consumes us.'**

'Very good, my dear,' Carol said as the magic wound into the both of them, the rite waiting for the final trigger to seal itself in their realities. 'Very good.'

Mathilda cried out in pleasure as Carol abruptly slotted herself into place between Mathilda's legs. Her cunt was _soaked_ against Mathilda's, hot and wet with her desire, and their pussies made an obscenely slick noise as they slid together. Carol rocked forward again, and Mathilda choked as Carol then casually moved her body around; finally her legs were suspended in the air at a low angle, cloth ties seemingly affixed to nothing, and Carol was spreading her own legs wider. Mathilda thought she could feel the lips of their pussies pressed so close together that they were almost hole-to-hole. They were certainly clit to clit, and Mathilda moaned as Carol began to rock again.

'I could keep you like this,' Carol said aloud, almost conversational. 'Tied down. Nothing but my fuck toy, to be used whenever I want a little relief.'

Mathilda moaned louder, bucking helplessly.

'And the truly lovely thing is, _I_ choose when you impregnate me,' Carol added, a little airy. 'You have no choice in the matter. All I have to do is make you come like this, fucking like this, and decide _I_ want it. I could keep you here, fuck you whenever I like, and use you to get pregnant over and over. As often as I like. You'd be nothing more than my breeder, the woman I come to when I want to get knocked up.'

'Carol -'

'Good. Moan my name more,' Carol encouraged. 'I love hearing it. I love hearing you. I love you. And so I won't keep you here.'

She was moving fast, overwhelming, and Mathilda wanted - she wanted -

'I'll just fuck you whenever and wherever I like, and make you breed me every time we fuck,' Carol finished. 'I'll keep fucking you until I can give no more children, but that is a very, _very_ long time from now. This is your life, Mathilda. My familiar. My breeder. My fuck toy. My possession. Mine.'

Mathilda could barely hear her, pulse loud and the wet, slippery sound of their grinding cunts louder still. She was - she was -

'Impregnate me,' Carol commanded. 'Come.'

Mathilda did, cunt pulsing around air - but in some abstract sense pulsing _out,_ or pulsing _into_ something.

Abruptly, Mathilda was hit with a magical knowledge, the understanding of a spell's inner workings; she could feel her pussy spurt liquid up into Carol's cunt, hard enough to spill deep inside, bursting its way up and past Carol's cervix to pool in her womb. She could all but see the fertilisation taking place, assisted by the magic; her 'sperm' forcing its way into Carol's egg and the first spark of life splitting the cell in two. She came again helplessly on that knowledge alone, flooding Carol's cunt all over again. Carol swore harshly and ground down, her hands tight on Mathilda's thighs as she came - and with that the magic locked, irrevocable now.

The two of them panted, until Mathilda finally said,

'So is that it, my lady? Or shall we continue?'

'Oh, I have no intention of stopping until dawn,' Carol replied, rearranging Mathilda's magical ties once more, until she was pinned on her back with her legs all but above her head. Carol sat astride her again, their pussies even more closely aligned than before. 'I want to test something.'

'Which is?'

'If you breed me more than once, will that affect how many children I have?' Carol thought aloud. She rubbed down, and again, Mathilda thought they might be hole to hole. 'I suppose this should be the control, but I can do that next time.'

'I don't care what you do as long as you don't stop moving, Carol,' Mathilda replied, barely able to rub up but managing anyway.

Carol laughed. 'Then breed me,' she said, hands bracing herself on the back of Mathilda's thighs as she began to thrust in earnest.

'Trying,' Mathilda mumbled through the pleasure, and listened to Carol laugh again as she spilled the profane miracle of life into her womb once more.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd apologise for this but it's honestly the sweetest thing I've written in a long time


End file.
